“I could not sleep,” he said, holding up the rod. “So we fish, Filiá and me. Although I do not think she likes the boat very much.”
“I can go if you want,” she went on. “I only came to see if you were all right and”—Skye peered at him more closely—“are you all right?”
Andreas shrugged.
“I will be. After coffee. Will you stay?”
“Yes.Nai.”
He retrieved the key and pushed open the door. Filiá trotted inside and began to make an inspection of the room, sniffing every item of furniture and testing the rug to make sure it could double as a scratch pad. Andreas vanished into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with small cups, one of which he held out to her.
“Let us sit outside.”
“I have so much to tell you,” Skye began, taking the seat besidehim. Her hands were possessed. She fiddled with the hem of her dress, the strap of her bag, the ends of her hair.
Andreas sat down and began to unlace his boots.
“To tell me,” he echoed. “I know about the bones at the empty house. The police…it is a small station. I overheard them talking about it.”
“Why were you at the police station?” she asked.
Andreas tugged off a sock.
“To identify the body.”
“Oh,” she said, a coldness stealing through her. “That must’ve been awful.”
“I did not think it would be a problem, but”—he sighed—“when my brother drowned, my parents were too distraught to do what had to be done. I offered to do it, and when I was called to do the same thing again for Karolos, it was as if the years were swept away in a great whoosh. I lost the ability to breathe, to stand up. I was no help.”
Without thinking, Skye reached over and took his hand.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could’ve been there with you.”
He stared at her, eyes unblinking.
“You were busy,” he said slowly, “with your husband.”
Skye removed her hand.
“He’s gone,” she said.
Andreas cleared his throat.
“Gone?”
“Away. Back to England. Out of my life for good. We’re getting divorced.”
He took a sip of his coffee but said nothing.
“I should’ve told you about him,” she went on, addressing the floor. “I came here to escape from him. Our marriage was…Martyn had become abusive. I just thought if I could hide here,stay out of his way, then I could forget about all of it. But that was never going to happen. It was as if I had a huge, gaping wound in my side and was trying to go about my daily life as normal. I had to face him, confront him, but I wasn’t strong enough to do that in London. Coming here, meeting you and all the others, that was what gave me the strength I needed.”
“He abused you?” Andreas’s voice was ice cold. He muttered something in Greek. “I will not translate that,” he added. “It is very rude.”
“Whatever it is, I’ve probably thought it myself,” Skye told him.
“This, I think not. The Greeks are very creative when it comes to insults.”
“Well, I’m sure Martyn deserves it. He isn’t only a bully and a liar, he’s also a thief. He left here believing that he’d get away with it, but my mother had other ideas. She got in touch with Sky High—that’s the charter company Martyn works for—and told them everything we know. His boss was furious, said he would suspend him with immediate effect and report the matter to the police in the UK. I can’t imagine anyone will employ him to work as a pilot again. That’s if he manages to avoid a prison sentence.”
